When He Remembered
by Blonde Panther
Summary: FE13. There's a very good reason why Morgan seems to have come from a different timeline than the other children, all by himself, and with no memory. This is that reason. Rated for disturbing imagery.


**Disclaimer:** Fire Emblem: Awakening and all related characters, names, and concepts are property of Intelligent Systems and Nintendo for purposes of copyright.  
 **Characters and pairings:** Chrom!Morgan/Henry!Cynthia.  
 **Warnings:** Rated for potentially disturbing imagery. I've tried to keep it mild for the reader, but due to the consequences it had to be sufficiently terrible for the characters.  
 _ **Author's Notes:**_ _I've been meaning to write a fic about what I believe might have happened to Morgan in his timeline and that caused him to lose his memory. I realize both Morgan and Cynthia may act differently from what we're used to, but keep in mind that the Cynthia who appears here is NOT the Cynthia that came with Lucina to the past; this takes place in a third timeline._

* * *

 _When He Remembered_

Truthfully, Morgan hadn't expected his eyes would ever open again or that he would ever suck air into his lungs again. And yet, he did both, seemingly only seconds after his head had hit the pillar in the palace. He sat up, realizing he was in a bed as the blanket slipped off him, and that his head might as well have split into two and it wouldn't have hurt any less. He placed his hands on his temples and clutched his head between his knees, waiting for the pounding to lessen.

"Morgan!" a shrill, panicky voice said. It didn't do his head any good, but he looked up regardless, relief washing over him. When he saw a white-haired girl with long pigtails and the uniform of the Ylissean Pegasus Knights run his way clutching a flask, he started to get out of bed.

"Cynthia," he said, losing his balance and falling into her arms. "You… you survived that onslaught?"

"Yes," she said, helping him back into the bed. He was clearly too weak to get up right now, so he let her pull the blanket over him again. "Mom told me to use my Pegasus and get you out of there. I… don't know if anyone else made it."

"I see…" she handed him the flask and he opened it, smelling it. Elixir. Quite possibly the last remains of the palace's supply. Hesitantly, he set the flask to his lips and took a sip. It worked- his headache lessened immediately. "Where are we?"

"Safe," she insisted. "There's a small village just off the beaten path from the palace. I only know it because I was born here… this is the house my mother grew up in. I managed to bring food for a few days, but…"

"By that time, Grima may already have had us tracked down," Morgan protested. "We have to undertake action now." He put his hand to his forehead. The elixir worked wonders for his head, but it also made his mind a little foggy. "Naga was talking to Father and Lucina about a rite that could send sentient and sapient beings through time and space. She said we could use it to change the fate of the world…"

"Do you want to try it?" Cynthia asked, "Are you sure we can pull that off- if it's just the two of us?"

"Your father was a great wizard, Cynthia," Morgan insisted. "As was my mother. As are we both."

"But Lucina's affinity for the Divine Dragon was… is… much greater than yours."

"That's true…" Morgan sighed. "But there's a theory that Naga and Grima are similar enough that one could theoretically perform the miracles of the other. My affinity for Grima is greater. We can try it, at least." To his relief, Cynthia nodded. "Get your father's books. We'll get things set up right away."

Cynthia nodded, rushed off, and returned before long with her arms full of books; most of them with black or dark purple covers. Morgan looked at them sadly- they were similar to the ones his mother had used in battle. The ones she had used before she… no, he couldn't think about that now. It would only distract him. She handed him one, and together they started flipping through what seemed to be infinite pages of hexes, curses, and rituals.

Cynthia had long since fallen asleep when Morgan finally found something. Not wanting to wake her up without cause, he double-checked… and triple-checked his find. Once assured he wasn't mistaken, he reached out and touched her shoulder. "Cynthia," he said, "I think I've found it. Here, look." She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, but quickly focused on the page he had chosen to show her. "It's not the same as what Naga described," he said, "And… it can only send one person, I'm afraid."

"It's better than nothing," Cynthia said, taking the book in her own two hands. Morgan looked at her as she ran her finger down the lines in the book and mouthed their contents. He always thought she looked the most beautiful when she was like this- focused and determined. Dared he say grim? "It says here that the person being sent through time will have to give up something dear to them," she finally said. "Both physical and incorporeal." She frowned. "But there's no explanation of how to give up the incorporeal sacrifice. Does it require stringing two hexes together?" She started flipping through the tome again.

Morgan, for his part, started musing. Cynthia could give up her Pegasus, he supposed. She was attached to the beast… would that be enough? On the other hand, perhaps it would be better if he went back… he had the marks of Naga and Grima, it would be easier for him to convince their parents of the urgency. But what would he give up as a sacrifice? "We… do we have Falchion in our possession?"

"That'd be a good physical sacrifice," Cynthia said, reading through the specifics of a certain hex, "but we don't. Lord Chrom was still using it when we left…"

"Then we need to go back," Morgan said, prompting her to shut the book. "Grab a lance and give me a tome, Cynthia." He stood up, a little wobbly but determined. "We're going back to the palace, and we're retrieving Falchion." She only nodded, packing up the tome with the ritual in it.

The black Pegasus couldn't fly very quickly for fear of being discovered by Grimleal hunters and Risen bloodhounds, so the flight back to Ylisstol took a good deal longer than Morgan imagined the trip to their safe house had taken. Cynthia glanced over her shoulder often to see if he was alright, something Morgan didn't understand until they landed just outside the palace walls. There were no soldiers fighting or Risen crawling around. The palace, the home in which he had grown up and learnt everything he knew, was deserted. Devoid of life… He swallowed painfully. "There's… there's a hole in one of the walls. Father damaged it when he first taught me and Lucina swordplay… let's use that to go in." Cynthia nodded wordlessly as they dismounted, letting him lead the way.

The outer courtyard was no better than the walls, and nor was the hallway that it led into. If anything, they were worse. Not all fallen soldiers had been devoured or burnt yet, and dead bodies littered the halls. Morgan remembered that they had been fighting in the throne room, and found himself running faster and faster as they approached it. Cynthia's footsteps pounded on the ground next to him, so he supposed she was keeping up. Part of him didn't want to go to the throne room, afraid of what they would find. But they had to get Falchion.

The doors had been blasted out of their hinges by magic, so there was no barrier that protected Morgan from the sight. He came to a halt as he reached the top of the steps that led to the throne room, staring at the bodies in front of him. His sister had been slammed into a pillar, much like he had been earlier, but much harder- or maybe she had been slung there so she would be out of the way. Morgan walked over to her and knelt next to her. She could have passed for only having been asleep, if only her limbs hadn't been broken and her face wouldn't have been smeared with blood.

Cynthia remained silent as Morgan trembled, stroking Lucina's cold face. She had been a better person than he was. She should have lived and he should have died- not the other way around. "I'm sorry, Lucy," he muttered, kissing the tips of his fingers and pressing them to her cheek. "But I… I'll do everything I can to change this. So… So please rest easy… okay? Sis?"

Cynthia waited some time, but finally broke Morgan's stupor. "Morgan… here." He looked up to see her kneeling next to him, clutching Falchion in both hands. He quickly took it from her, knowing how heavy it was to those deemed unworthy. His father's sword… either him or Lucina had stood to inherit it when Chrom gave up his throne. But this was not the way it had been supposed to go. "Let's go, Morgan… quickly. We don't have any time to waste."

"Wait." He stood up, clutching the sword. "I… I have to see him." He knew Cynthia had looted Falchion from his father's corpse. Probably both to save time and to protect him. To make sure he wouldn't have to see it. But Morgan wanted to, had to see him, to get the closure he needed before he could set out for the past. Unwillingly, the girl nodded and gestured in the direction of the throne.

He followed the line of her gesture, only for his breath to halt in his throat. "No," he muttered, shaking his head and stepping back, using both arms to clutch Falchion to his chest. "She wouldn't have… they can't have… Cynthia, please tell me I'm not… It's not real…"

She put her hands on his shoulders to stabilize him before he'd walk backwards towards the steps and fall down them. "I'm sorry, Morgan. This is what I didn't want you to see… It's over now, though. He's not suffering anymore, if that helps." Morgan sobbed, biting back tears. Chrom's body was in worse state than Lucina's, barely recognizable if not for his blue hair and the Brand of the Exalt on his shoulder. Most disconcerting, however, and the main reason Morgan wanted to believe he was mistaken, was that his chest had been ripped open- as if someone had torn his heart out of him. Morgan knew who had done it. She'd needed his heart to complete the rite. "Let's go," Cynthia urged, "before it comes back, following our trail."

He didn't have the heart to argue with her. Still clutching Falchion desperately, as if it would bring his family back, he followed her as she led him out of the palace and towards her Pegasus. "No," he said. "We… we have to do it here." With that, he dropped the sacred blade on the ground. "I'll go back. You have to work the magic."

"Of course," Cynthia said, not bothering to point out they wouldn't have come here if not to send Morgan back in time. "Falchion is your physical sacrifice… what of your non-corporeal one?"

"My memories," Morgan said. He knew for certain that he had to sacrifice those. He had little choice- the sight of his father and sister's corpses was burnt into his retinas, and it didn't affect him severely yet, but within time, he would completely stop to function, and lose his mind. "All of them… not just what I've just seen, but also all my happy memories of my childhood. Of training with Father, studying with Mother… playing with Lucina and Owain and driving Sir Frederick up the wall. All of them. Will that be enough?"

"It… should be." Cynthia hesitated, but then took the tome to hand and opened it up to prepare the ritual. Morgan helped her lay out the magic circle, trying the best he could to numb himself. With the circle done, they placed Falchion in the middle, and Cynthia gestured that Morgan had to stand with it. "I'm going to extract your memories now," she explained, running her finger over the instructions in the tome and avoiding looking at Morgan. "And use them to force a rip in time. Memories are time-related, so that should work…"

"Cynthia," Morgan said. "Look at me." She did as he'd asked, and he forced himself to smile. "Thank you. I'm sorry for doing this to you… I wish I could bring you with me."

"It's as you said," she protested. "I have to work the magic. Besides…" she gave a sad smile of her own. "As a Pegasus Knight of Ylisse, I have the duty to protect my liege. That liege is you, now." She placed two fingers on his forehead. "I… I'm pretty sure this won't hurt."

"Wait." As she lowered her hand, Morgan put a hand on her face and kissed her. He and Cynthia had been close for years, and he couldn't stand the thought of leaving her alone in this war-torn wasteland. It was better for the world, that was true… but he wanted to leave her with this, at least. Just as he broke away from her, an infernal roar resonated from far beyond them. Still, no matter how far away he was now, Grima wouldn't need long to reach them. "Cast the hex, Cynthia," Morgan urged.

She placed her fingers back onto his forehead and began to chant in a foreign language. Before long, she drew a small orb of light from his brain, and blinked away tears. "I'll remember you, Morgan," she said, smiling. "I'll remember enough for us both."

"Thank you," he said, and that was the last thing he could before losing consciousness once more.

When he woke up, he found himself laying on the ground face-down, holding a tome in one hand. He had no idea where he was- or who he was and where he'd come from, for that matter. It was a stroke of luck that the magic in the tome came to him naturally, letting him protect himself from the scruffy, unsavoury men that came to attack him.

When he was instead approached by a man with dark blue hair, holding a special-looking sword with an arm bearing a peculiar marking, for some reason he felt relief and joy washing over him. He didn't care that he could only remember his name, no matter how much he wracked his brain. What did it matter where he'd come from? Where he was going was much more important, and he was going there with this man, claiming to be his father, with his mother, and with a girl who they said was his sister.

He was just so very relieved.


End file.
